The Doctor's Job
by BeneficialAddiction
Summary: The team returns from a job to find a stranger in Nate's apartment, and she isn't going anywhere! With her own special set of skills, will the newcomer be able to find a place amongst them, or will resistance on multiple fronts keep her from becoming part of the Leverage family? Mid-season 2, Off Canon (OC)
1. Chapter 1

They were exhausted. All of them. Hardison was dragging his duffel bag of computer equipment behind him so that he didn't have to carry it. Parker's shoulders were slumped and she was breathing raggedly, her eyes on the floor. Sophie's makeup was smeared, something that _never_ happened, and she was leaning heavily on Nate, whose hair had come loose from its gel and was hanging in his eyes. Eliot himself had jarred his ankle when a pair of armed gorillas dropped him over a stairwell, and he was limping badly, grimacing with each step he took.

It had been a rough job. A tiring job. Now all that Eliot wanted was to trip back to their temporary headquarters in Nate's new apartment, debrief _quickly_, and head home for a shower and a nice long sleep. The thought of hot water and his pillows was almost enough to make him moan. A nice hot meal wouldn't hurt either. Maybe a beer and a football game…

Pulled back into the present as the team reached the end of the hallway, he leaned one shoulder against the wall to take his weight off his ankle while they waited impatiently for Nate to jangle through his ring full of keys. Just as he located the right one, Eliot picked up on a low hum just on the other side of the wall. Pushing his hair back roughly, he tipped his head towards the door to isolate the sound. In the flash of a single second, his hand snapped out and grasped Nate's wrist, stopping him just before the key hit the deadbolt.

"You hear that?"

The team froze, each of them straining to hear through the door. A grim muffled voice was just audible, low and steady with a clamoring sort of background behind it.

"You leave the TV's on Hardison?" Eliot asked.

The hacker's eyes went wide and he shook his head vehemently. Eliot's mouth twisted grimly as he took the key from Nate, turning it in the lock and looking back at the group, nodding once before he pushed the door open and silently stepped inside. A preliminary scan from the threshold showed him nothing, and he was only two steps through the doorway when he felt the rest of them span out behind him, forming a half circle around the back of the couch. A hockey game was blaring on the screens, but there was no other significant sign to suggest an intruder. Behind him, the team relaxed.

Eliot knew better.

The whole apartment smelled like popcorn, and the hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up.

There was someone here. He could _feel _them.

Someone slouched low on the sofa, invisible from where he stood.

A young, female someone, judging by the sound of her voice.

"Come on Zetterberg," the voice mumbled. "Come on…"

Turning back to his wide-eyed team, he placed a finger to his lips and took a silent step closer towards the sofa. He almost yelped when the girl lounging on the other side rocketed to her feet, whooping and cheering as a puck went sailing across the bank of TV's and the into net, buzzers sounding and the crowd going wild.

"Yes!" she shouted, pumping her fists into the air and jumping up and down. "Wooo!"

Swallowing down his heart, Eliot frowned and strode forward, intent on grabbing the girl who'd broken into their headquarters and hauling her back over the sofa to face the lot of them, only to stumble violently backward himself when a big black shepherd with an even bigger mouthful of sharp teeth surged up and over the couch towards him. This time, he _did_ yelp. A sharp command in German, one he only just heard, rang out, and the animal dropped to its belly, but Eliot didn't stop. His momentum carried him backward across the floor until he crashed into Nate and managed to catch his balance again.

"Jesus!" he gulped. He didn't like dogs. At least not protection trained ones that were coming at him with teeth bared. Another command had the dog returning to the girl's side, the girl, who had finally acknowledged their presence and was now perched on the back of the couch facing them, her head tilted to one side as she looked at him intently. He narrowed his eyes at her and one side of her mouth quirked up in a half-smile before her gaze moved on, looking each of them up and down one by one. He took the time as a gift, and didn't waste a second of it before looking her over fully in return.

She was young, but not as young as he'd first thought, in her mid to late-twenties perhaps. Slim, and about as tall as he was, she had thick, curly, chestnut colored hair, and her skin was just pale enough to be noticed as such. There were fat golden freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, setting off eyes that were a startling shade of dark, mossy green, a darker green than he had ever seen before. She was dressed in black jeans and a Red Wings jersey with three quarter sleeves, a black string bracelet tied around one wrist. Heavy black combat boots adorned her feet, and there was a set of shiny silver dog tags woven through the loose, sloppy laces. They glinted in the sun that was slanting through the windows, drawing his eye, and he had to wonder; she didn't look military.

She was pretty.

The thought jarred him. It was strange, not that he noticed, but that he noticed before he looked closer. Before he assessed her stance and found her anxious. Eliot relaxed. She was holding all that tension in her shoulders; she was nervous, but not about to attack.

Not like she needed too. She clearly had exquisite control over the massive black Shepherd at her side, and while the animal was lying perfectly still at her side, he could see that it was tightly coiled, its muscles bunched, ready to spring. And its brown, almond-shaped eyes were fixed solely on him. Eliot's lip curled, unconsciously flashing his teeth at the canine before he turned his attention back to its human commander. She had finished her perusal of the team and was now staring intently at Parker, waiting for… something.

Eliot looked across the group and over to the little blonde thief that he thought of as a baby sister. All the color had leached out of her face and her hands were clenched into fists, shaking at her sides. Wide eyes were shocked and almost a little bit afraid, and it was that whisper of fear that had him straightening up and leaning forward on the balls of his feet, ready for whatever might come. For a few, silent seconds, it was like an old-fashioned standoff there in the living room, the team against the newcomer with the wide expanse of floor standing bare and quiet between them.

Finally it became clear that Parker wasn't going to be making introductions, and the girl sighed softly, a single breath laced with pain.

"Hey Parks," she murmured. "Long time, no see."


	2. Chapter 2

_She was pretty._

_The thought jarred him. It was strange, not that he noticed, but that he noticed before he looked closer. Before he assessed her stance and found her anxious. Eliot relaxed. She was holding all that tension in her shoulders; she was nervous, but not about to attack._

_She had finished her perusal of the team and was now staring intently at Parker, waiting for… something._

_Finally it became clear that Parker wasn't going to be making introductions, and the girl sighed softly, a single breath laced with pain._

_"Hey Parks," she murmured. "Long time, no see."_

* * *

"You… you…" Parker stammered and spluttered, more flustered than Eliot or any of the rest of the team had ever seen her. Hardison stepped in close to her side, putting one hand lightly on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off sharply and moved away. For a second she stood there with her mouth open and silent, seemingly at a total loss, but it passed quickly. "How did you get in here?!" she demanded.

"Oh I picked the locks," the girl replied nonchalantly before her gaze sharpened and she smirked at their resident thief. "You should really look into that." Swinging her legs back over the couch, she dropped casually onto the cushions and resumed her hockey game as though nothing had happened, as though nothing were strange and she had always been there. Eliot raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was impressed. If anything, the girl had balls.

But he was still confused. His gaze darted back and forth between the two women, dumbfounded by Parker's adverse reaction to the newcomer. The tiny blonde's face had gone bright red, and her mouth opened and closed several times. Finally something snapped and she stamped her foot hard like a child.

"Dammit Lennie!" she shouted. Glaring down at the dog who had begun a low, rumbling snarl, she stomped her foot again. "Shut up Echo!" The dog laid its ears back flat against its skull, but surprisingly, it did quiet down.

"Oh come on Parks," the girl grumbled, blatantly lifting the remote as high as she could and turning up the volume on her hockey game. "You still pissed at me for stepping on your Tomagatchi? Told you I'd buy you a new one."

"You're a monster," Parker hissed. "Eliot," she whined, turning on him, "Hit her! Throw her out!"

Eliot frowned. "What?" he asked, taking an abrupt step back. "It doesn't work that way!" And it didn't. _He_ didn't. He didn't hit on demand, didn't hit for no apparent reason. Especially not girls. Parker should know that. They all should know that. He wasn't just another dog to be commanded to bite…

"Take it easy Parker," Nate said, breaking Eliot out of his quick downward spiral. Normally so protective of the little thief, of all of them, he was shocked to find himself so quick to anger. It took a minute to unclench his fingers, to regulate his breathing and drop the scowl that none of them seemed to have noticed.

"I take it you two know each other…" Nate continued, leaving the end of the sentence open, trying to get someone to talk.

In one smooth, swinging motion that was very Parker-esque, the girl on the couch spun herself off the cushions and onto the back of the couch once again, crossing one knee over the other and jiggling her foot nervously. Eliot could hear the dog tags in her laces clicking. "Lennie," she said in a declarative tone, looking Nate dead on. "Parker's cousin. And you must be her _team_. The hacker, the grifter, the planner, and the hitter." Her eyes lingered on each of them as she named them off, and for some reason Eliot wasn't at all surprised that she knew who each of them were. "Adorable."

"_What_ are you _doing_ here?" Parker snarled.

Lennie frowned at her for a minute before reaching into her back pocket and whipping out a square, wrinkled envelope. Spinning it between two fingers in a way that reminded him of throwing knives, she held it out but Parker refused to come any closer. Rolling her eyes, she slit open the envelope and pulled out a pale blue piece of paper, snapping it open with a flick of her wrist and reading aloud.

"You're presence is cordially requested at the funeral of Leonard Task on this day the blah, blah, blah…" Lennie snapped her wrist again, flicking both the envelope and the letter through the air towards her cousin. They only made it halfway there before they floated carelessly to the floor. "Wake to follow."

There was a full beat of silence before Parker spoke again. "You tracked me down, and came all the way out here… to make sure I was invited to _your dad's _funeral? Why do you even care if I'm there?"

"Oh I don't," Lennie replied woodenly. "But _he_ did."

Eliot took a step backwards. It was horribly obvious that he and the rest of the team were coming very close to intruding on something deeply personal and painful, something amongst family that wasn't meant to be on display. Even Parker looked embarrassed, something she didn't often show, but her face was beet red and she had dropped her eyes to the floor.

"So yeah," Lennie finished. "There's that. Blow my measly eight hundred dollar savings tracking down my father's _favorite niece _and bringing her back to Michigan in time for daddy dearest's internment."

Parker had crossed her arms over her chest again and was hugging her torso, obviously upset, but not as upset as her cousin, whose eyes were glittering with anger and unshed tears. She was clutching the couch cushions in a white-knuckled grip, her forearms shaking with the effort of holding herself together and Eliot felt a strange urge to comfort her. It was foreign, and it heated the back of his neck as he tried to push the feelings away.

"And how exactly do you expect to do that?" Parker asked in a cold, flat voice, drawing his attention again. "Kidnap me? I'm not going Lennie."

"Not kidnapping you," Lennie rolled her eyes again and dropped back over the couch one more time, giving some sort of hand command to the dog, Echo, that had him jumping onto the cushions at her side and dropping his heavy head onto her lap. Fed up with the stalemate, sick of standing at the ready, Eliot moved casually around the edge of the room and dropped into a chair, as much to get off his feet as to keep an eye on her. She watched him as he moved, her gaze flicking from his ankle to his face before returning to her game. He could see her fingers shaking as she stroked her dog's ears idly as it whined, high pitched and keening, acutely attuned to his owner's distress.

"Funeral's not for two days," she continued. Her voice was carefully neutral, but he could hear the effort it took for her to keep it that way. "Figured I'd stick around, let you whine yourself out, then we'd go. Bring you right back, soon's it's done."

"I'm not going!" Parker declared again, her voice high-pitched and petulant.

"Uh-huh."

"Right, well," Nate began in his '_let's be reasonable_' tone. "Uh, Lennie. It's been… nice meeting you, but you can't stay here. We're… working."

"Look, I don't care what you're stealing," she tossed our casually, propping her booted feet up on the coffee table in front of her, nudging aside a half-empty bowl of popcorn.

Eliot narrowed his eyes. If it hadn't been clear before that Lennie knew what team did, it was now. The question was _how_ did she know? He thought it unlikely that Parker had told her, but if she hadn't, what was left?

"Took me a long time to find you," Lennie said quietly. "Not letting you out of my sight. We leave in two days, we'll be back in five; then, if you want, you'll never see me again. I'm sure you can all handle me that long."

"So, what?" Hardison asked loudly, stepping up to Parker's side in a show of solidarity. "You just want her to sit around here for two days so you can babysit her? What if we need her?"

The hacker was visibly annoyed, his eyebrows drawn and his mouth thin, and Eliot wondered just why he was so irritated by the appearance of his love interest's cousin. He wasn't sure that Hardison was insightful enough to be aware of the subtle, crackling wire of tension between them.

Lennie's eyes didn't leave the television. "I can keep up," she said flatly.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Took me a long time to find you," Lennie said quietly. "Not letting you out of my sight. We leave in two days, we'll be back in five; then, if you want, you'll never see me again. I'm sure you can all handle me that long."_

_"So, what?" Hardison asked loudly, stepping up to wrap an arm around Parker's shoulders. "You just want her to sit around here for two days so you can babysit her? What if we need her?"_

_Lennie's eyes didn't leave the television. "I can keep up," she said flatly._

* * *

Slowly, the tension began to leak away from the room, Parker's strange cousin at the epicenter of it all. She seemed too much at ease, her boots on the edge of the coffee table, crossed at the ankles, her fingers stroking her dog's ears thoughtlessly as she turned her attention back to her hockey game, carefully ignoring the five people who were purely dumbfounded by her intrusion into their well-oiled machine, her insistent presence in their space. Grouping around the breakfast bar, they began to debrief quietly, leaving Eliot to study her from his chair. He was just a little bit unnerved by her steady calm, more-so by the way the Shepherd was staring at him intently from his owner's lap.

He sneered at the dog and it huffed at him, an angry sort of sigh that came from deep in his chest.

"He won't hurt you."

Eliot's gaze left the dog in favor of its owner, but she wasn't looking at him.

"What?" he asked sharply, annoyed that she'd tossed the comment out so casually, without even turning to him. Her dark eyes met his and the quiet surprise in them checked his attitude. He was surprised at himself. Normally even-keeled and well in control of his reactions to anything, the odd, rolling mix of emotion tumbling around in his chest was distracting him.

"Echo," she stated, and the dog's ears flicked, but she was focused solely on him. "He won't hurt you. He only came at you because…"

"Because_ I_ came at _you_," Eliot finished. "I know. Not scared."

"Never said you were," she replied simply, shrugging and slouching lower into the couch cushions, dislodging the canine from his place. "He just… doesn't really like other people."

As if to prove her words, the dog had slunk off the couch and took a few stalking steps toward him, head and tail low, ears flat back against his skull. Eliot sat still, ready to give it a swift kick in the chops with his steel-toed boot if it bit him, but willing to leave it alone if it returned the favor. Lennie watched carefully, prepared to give a sharp command if needed, but the dog only took another step closer and sniffed at the leg of Eliot's jeans. Cocking his head, he sat in front of the chair, looking back at his master for instruction.

"Be nice," Lennie said in a level tone, and his mouth immediately fell open, his tongue lolling out and his body softening, transforming him from a black devil of beast into a smiling, happy dog. His tail swished twice across the floor and he gave out a short huffing sort of woof, pushing at Eliot's hand with his nose where it rested on the arm of his chair. Eliot raised an eyebrow at Lennie, but she looked surprised herself, her eyes wide in an expression that spoke of a sort of impressed disbelief. Reaching out in a smooth, steady movement, he scratched the top of the dog's head and rubbed around its ears. When it didn't sink its teeth into him, he began to stroke its neck and shoulder, ruffling its thick fur.

"Not a bad dog are you?" he muttered gruffly.

"Must be all right yourself, for him to make friends so fast."

Eliot quickly withdrew his hand and glared at Lennie, who was watching him with speculative eyes. "Shouldn't trust people so easily," he intoned. "You don't know anything about me."

"Echo's a pretty good judge of character," she replied, making a motion with her hand that brought the dog back to her side and had him lying down beneath her legs between the coffee table and the couch. "He's made some good calls in the past." Her eyes flicked back up to meet his gaze, and a blind man couldn't miss the ghosts in them. "It's him I trust."

"Right."

"Hey Eliot!" Hardison called, a lot louder than he needed to. "Get over here so Nate'll let us go home!"

Eliot growled under his breath and pushed himself out of his chair, wincing as he stood. The pain in his ankle had been reduced to a dull throb while he had been off his feet, but as soon as it took his weight, a sharp ache flared and he hissed through gritted teeth.

"You should stay off that," Lennie advised, her attention on the TV's once again. "You fall down some stairs?"

Eliot's mouth fell open and he looked at her with something akin to astonishment bubbling in his stomach, but before he could voice it, Hardison beat him to the punch.

"Now how in the hell did you know that?" he asked.

Lennie glanced at him over her shoulder with an air of utter boredom. "It's a very distinctive sprain."

Hardison's jaw dropped and he pointed at the back of her head, looking between her and Eliot with astonishment. Eliot could offer him no explanation. Hearing his own phrase come out of her mouth… it was unnerving. Parker was frowning too, and he had to wonder just how much, if anything, she had shared with the cousin she seemed so distant from.

"Rest, ice, compression, elevation," she muttered from the couch, leaning forward to pick up her popcorn bowl.

"You a doctor or something?" Hardison pressed.

Only Eliot was close enough to catch the words, and the bitter smirk, that followed.

"Or something."

"Can we just go home now please?" Parker demanded, frowning peevishly and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, Nate, let's finish this up," Sophie sighed. "We're all exhausted."

"That's fine," Nate agreed. "Right, so. Like I said, this job's pretty much done. We just have to do the wrap up with our client, let them know everything's set, so… good job team."

'_Rah rah rah_,' Eliot thought. '_And in three, two, one_...'

"Our next job's all lined up," Nate continued predictably. His eyes skated over to the girl on the couch who wasn't paying him the slightest mind before continuing. "I'll brief everyone in a few days, and we'll be ready to go. Should be easy on everyone, in and out, short, sweet, simple."

"Yeah, except Parker's not gonna be here," Eliot pointed out. Hadn't they been listening? "We planning on playing without her?"

"I'm not going anywhere," the thief said adamantly, glaring at Eliot like it was him she was angry with, and he lowered his brow, making a face at her. This was hardly his fault, more likely _hers_, because how else did _her _family show up knowing all kinds of shit she shouldn't?

"Set it up," she told Nate, firm and unmovable.

"All right." The planner looked to each of the team with an easy smile. "Go home, get some rest. Be back here in two days to brief."

Hardison clapped his hands and broke the huddle, moving away to gather up all of his electronic bits and pieces that were scattered about the apartment, stuffing them into his duffel. Eliot hung back, interested to see how the departure would play out. Lennie, who hadn't been paying any attention to the meeting, seemed to sense that it had wrapped up, and rose casually from the couch, clicking off the TV's and moving towards Parker's side, her dog following at a close heel.

"You drive?" she asked.

Parker frowned and took a step back, shaking her head as though she didn't understand why she was being asked.

"Cool," Lennie replied. "We'll take my truck; no chance for you to ditch me on the highway."

"Screw you!" Parker snapped. Turning on her heel, she marched out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

Lennie smirked. Turning, she walked backwards towards the door and gave the group a little wave. "Nice to meet you all," she called, and then she was gone.

"What the hell?" Hardison said quietly.

Eliot laughed. It was a low, husky laugh, but it was honest and open. His life, their lives, were anything but conventional, and the random appearance of a completely weird girl, a girl who was none the less perceptive and insistent in her presence… well it really wasn't all that strange was it? Tossing up a hand in a dismissive wave, he left the apartment and headed down the stairs, limping across the lot to his truck. There was another parked beside it – a big, blue Ram 1500, and Parker was in the passenger seat with her arms crossed, a nasty scowl on her face.

Unlocking his own vehicle, he heard a tailgate slam behind him, and he turned to find Lennie securing her dog in the bed of the truck. The animal gave him another buffing sort of woof, swishing his tail, but Lennie lowered an eyebrow and frowned.

"Seriously," she said, nodding her chin in his direction, "Get off that ankle."

Without waiting for a reply, she rounded the truck and climbed inside. It started with a loud, low rumble of dual tailpipes, and Eliot watched silently as it pulled out of the lot and roared away up the street. A feeling like admiration curled in his chest, but he wrote it off as approval for a decent pick-up, and as having nothing to do with the girl. Shaking his head, he climbed into his own vehicle and headed for home, uncharacteristically willing to take some advice and get off his twisted ankle.


	4. Chapter 4

_Eliot laughed. Tossing up a hand in a dismissive wave, he left the apartment and headed down the stairs, limping across the lot to his truck. Unlocking his vehicle, he heard a tailgate slam behind him, and he turned to find Lennie securing her dog in the bed of the truck. The animal gave him another buffing sort of woof, swishing his tail, but Lennie lowered an eyebrow and frowned._

_"Seriously," she said, nodding her chin in his direction, "Get off that ankle."_

_Without waiting for a reply, she rounded the truck and climbed inside. It started with a loud, low rumble of dual tailpipes, and Eliot watched silently as it pulled out of the lot and roared away up the street. Shaking his head, he climbed into his own vehicle and headed for home, uncharacteristically willing to take some advice and get off his feet._

* * *

"When I was just a baby, my mama told me 'Son, Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns.' But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die…"

The hot water felt so good on his skin that it had Eliot humming and singing the Folsom Prison Blues as he stood under the spray, scrubbing away all the sweat and the frustrations of the job. Perhaps an odd choice - he didn't care for guns after all - but he _did_ love the Man in Black. Singing in the shower wasn't a particular vice of his either, but it was something to keep his mind blank…

He shook his head, flicking the water out of his hair as he turned off the shower, stepping out and grabbing a towel to wrap loosely around his hips. The bathroom was filled with a warm, pleasant steam, fogging the glass of the shower door and the mirror over the sink, and he luxuriated in that heat while it still hung in the air. Swiping off the mirror, he took a moment to contemplate his reflection before he reached for his razor, unwilling to look too long for fear that his mind would start turning again. The job was done, and for now, for two glorious days, he could relax, do a few of the things he enjoyed that didn't have anything to do with hitting or retrieval or any kind of physical violence.

"Well I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free. But those people keep a movin,' And that's what tortures me..."

Tugging on a pair of gray sweats and a ribbed black tank top, he hung his wet towel neatly over the shower door and made his way through the apartment to the kitchen. He was tired, and would have been happy to just topple into his bed and sleep until morning, but the audible growling of his stomach made him think twice. He would wake up with a headache if he didn't eat first, so he dug through his refrigerator and gathered the makings for a quick and easy sandwich. He ate standing at the counter, gulping down a glass of fresh-squeezed OJ before leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. He held a quiet debate with himself before deciding against an ACE bandage, double-checked the locks on his door, and tripped away to his bed.

His mattress was like heaven. He washed his sheets all the time just because he loved the way they smelled, the way they felt against his skin when they were clean. Slipping beneath the grey quilted cover, he rolled over onto his stomach and punched his pillow into shape, circling his arms around it and heaving a sigh. His body heat slowly began to seep into the covers and wrap around him, making him feel heavy, weighing him down and clouding up his brain. He huffed and squirmed around a bit, searching for sleep but it was elusive, coming close and then darting away as soon as he could touch it.

Thoughts floated hazily around in his head, unformed half-pictures that had been following him for a while now. He was getting used to working with a team, he knew, growing comfortable with his place in the group. He had found a sort of family with the four people that he worked so closely with and he mostly hadn't realized it. Sophie's betrayal the year before had shaken him badly, shown him just how much the intimate dynamic between them meant, and just how much it would hurt if he lost it. He'd made efforts to distance himself after that, tried to hold on to the anger, the grudge against Sophie that would keep him from falling back into the group so far that he couldn't get out, but he'd been mostly unsuccessful. Lately, however, it felt like he been slipping, like standing on ice with his feet slipping every which way as he tried desperately to cling to his balance.

Too many jobs. Too many, too close together. When people got tired, they got sloppy, and then it was on him to make sure they all got out safe. Protecting himself, fighting for himself; he was used to that. It was easy, it was _fun_, even when it was painful. He was always up for a good, simple brawl, but when you were fighting for others, protecting someone else… well, you fought harder. It was more than just having to be in five places at once, more than having to take care of four team members. It was… caring. Worrying. It was actually being scared, for the first time in a long time, really scared. Feeling his heart pound in his throat, tasting nickel and not knowing if he would be in time…

Shadows of his team swam in his head through the gloom that was dragging him down into sleep, and the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the face of the new girl, studying him through dark, haunted eyes.

* * *

Lennie didn't comment on the state of Parker's living space. It didn't shock her, hell, didn't even surprise her. The way they'd grown up, the way they'd lived… survival was survival, and anything more was luxury. The tiny studio apartments that she rented by the month in whatever city she was in, her beat up, second-hand Dodge, those were the nicest things she had, and she'd worked hard for them. She kept them neat and in in good repair, and was in possession of little else. Few physical _things _interested her, and so she didn't find it strange that Parker had turned out the same.

The room was mostly empty, just a big, steel-sided square with cement floor and poor lighting. A large, white bed occupied most of the space, a ratty stuffed rabbit holding the place of honor against the center pillow. Lennie smiled a little bit; she remembered that rabbit well from childhood. In fact, she was pretty sure that that rabbit had been one of the first things her cousin had ever stolen. There were a few shelves off to one side that held boxes of cereal and a stack of bowls and spoons, and an elaborate frame over which Parker carefully arranged her rig of ropes and harnesses before moving towards the bed.

"You can take the floor," she tossed out casually, her tone flat.

It was the first thing she'd said since they'd left her friend's apartment. The ride had been totally silent, and it might have been stiff and awkward if Lennie had cared. Such as it was, she'd tuned the radio in to a crackling country oldies station and kept her eyes on the road. It was easy for her to shrug off Parker's mood; she had her own job to do right now, and she was going to get it done. That, and she just… well, she couldn't seem to bring herself to care too much about anything right now. She was falling, she knew it - back into the void that she'd fallen into once before, only this time she didn't know why she was falling. Before it had made sense, it had _mattered_, but now… She didn't love her father, hadn't even really known him, and his death didn't deserve to swallow her.

"No worries," she answered back, slinging her duffel bag down onto the floor near the side of the bed. Her response came after only a second's delay, but still later than it should've been, and Parker frowned at her as she unlaced her shoes. "I've slept worse places."

That earned her a quiet look, one that spoke of shared experience and hard understanding. Lennie turned her back on Parker, uninterested in starting a conversation that might lead to reminiscence, not even willing to consider thinking about it. Kneeling, she carefully removed her boots, her fingers lingering on the raised letters of the small metal tags fastened into the laces before she lined them up neatly near the foot of Parker's bed. Pulling her bag to her side, she punched it up into a suitable pillow and made herself as comfortable as possible on the cold cement floor. Echo ghosted quietly to her side, stretching his length out along her side, tucked into the crook of her arm with his head draped over her shoulder, offering her warmth and silent support that she was desperately afraid she was beginning to need again, and she squeezed him gently before closing her eyes.

Above her, she could hear Parker dropping her sneakers to the floor and rustling around as she climbed beneath the blankets, the mattress groaning softly beneath her insignificant weight. It was quiet for a minute, stillness falling over her like a gossamer sheet, and the weariness of her recent cross-country drive and the dragging emotion and stress of her father's death hit her in one sudden, debilitating wave. She was tired. Just… just tired.

"Night Lennie," a small voice murmured into the dark.

She wasn't sure if she managed to reply before she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_She was falling, she knew it - back into the void that she'd fallen into once before, only this time she didn't know why she was falling. Before it had made sense, it had mattered, but now…_

_It was quiet for a minute, stillness falling over her like a gossamer sheet, and the weariness of her recent cross-country drive and the dragging emotion and stress of her father's death hit her in one sudden, debilitating wave. She was tired. Just… just tired._

_"Night Lennie," a small voice murmured into the dark._

_She wasn't sure if she managed to reply before she fell asleep._

* * *

Waking up on a floor with a kink in her spine wasn't really unusual for Lennie. She'd slept in the bed of her truck before, on the roof of a garage, in a barn loft - so she wasn't surprised to find herself curled tightly around Echo for warmth, a zipper pressing into her cheek as she slobbered all over her duffel bag. Sitting up, she followed the big shepherd's example and stretched long and hard, her neck cracking audibly. Parker's arm hung limply over the edge of the bed at her side and she twisted around to check the time on her watch. Eleven thirty. Ugh.

Riffling through her bag, she changed into some green jogging shorts and a black, long-sleeved t-shirt while Echo danced anxiously at her side. Unearthing a spare pair of running shoes, she laced them up and scribbled a quick note to Parker on the face of an open cereal box before heading for the door. It was just a little bit chilly outside, the sun still working its way up over the tops of the buildings as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail and stretched out her calves, waiting for Echo to sniff around a bit and finish his business before starting out on her run.

She didn't know where she was heading, didn't know this _city_ - she'd only just come in yesterday morning, following crudely scribbled directions to the apartment out of which Parker and her friends based their operations – and she found that she liked the feeling. More than she should really. The not knowing. It was… liberating. As Echo loped along easily at her side she quickened her pace, feeling her muscles warm and her heartbeat speed up, moving away from one thing and moving towards another. It burned in her, she was flush with it, and as much as she loved it, it also terrified her. For a few minutes she tried to shut her brain down, to watch the sky brighten as the sun reached its peak, to listen to the rush pounding in her ears as she ran, green flashing as she moved out of the commercial zone and down into the center of the city where the trees were fenced in closer together, but it wasn't working.

She'd started running years ago, when she'd gotten the dog and when she'd gotten the prescription for antidepressants and realized that the last thing she wanted was to be on them and to keep sliding down the dangerous slope she was already tripping over. She used the exercise as an out, building herself up to a vicious routine that allowed her to let her mind go and push her body instead, to experience that rush of endorphins and adrenaline that left her with a pleasant calm she could carry with her for the rest of the day. And it usually worked.

But not today.

Today it felt like she was spinning her wheels, her mind screaming in circles as she ran. She was tense, her thighs locking up on her and her shoulders aching, and Echo knew she was distressed, hugging in tight to her side in a close heel as she ran for all she was worth, dancing out of the way when her sneakers pounded the pavement just a little too close to his paws. It was this change, this new thing that was coming, that she had jumped into feet first too fast that was doing it.

And she supposed that was what really showed the shared blood between her and Parker. Her cousin had never been far from trouble when they were kids. To be fair, Lennie had never been far behind, but Parker had been the instigator. It had been…

Lennie swallowed hard and forced herself to think it, to remember, to _say_ the name as she turned off the sidewalk and headed down into a small park, following a well-worn trail that ran along the edge.

"Matt."

Matt. Matthew. Matty. Her brother, her fraternal twin, her everything growing up until he just wasn't there anymore. They had clung tightly together as kids, closer to each other than anyone else in their small, messed-up world. He had always been the smart one, the one with the plan, and it was he who'd kept them out of foster homes, desperate that they should stay together even when it meant living with their father. He had protected her with all he had, and Parker too when they'd been together. More than once he'd had to come in and pull them out of some small scheme that had gone wrong, and he'd done his best to keep their cousin as safe as Parker could be kept until she'd left.

That had hurt both Matt and Lennie – Parker abandoning them. For the twins, family was what they had, the _only_ thing, the thing that meant the most, and for her to so callously disappear with hardly a word had stung. It was months before they'd heard from her again, almost a year, and the whole time Matt had worried, sick with the panic that rolled through him when he considered what might have happened to her, the things she might be doing to survive. It was easy to forgive her for her new career as a thief, but even though Lennie had salvaged a portion of her relationship with Parker in recent years, she still wasn't sure if she had it in her heart to forgive her for the rest.

* * *

Eliot woke up with a hot slash of noontime sunlight slanting through his windows and tripping across his bed, burning bright orange through his eyelids. Rolling onto his back, he threw off the covers and stretched lazily, noting the greatly reduced pain and stiffness in his ankle. He had to blink and look twice at the alarm clock on his bedside table; he'd slept for… God, what? Sixteen, eighteen hours? He usually only slept for ninety minutes. And yeah, every once in a while, when he got really run down, he would crash for a good long sleep, but this must be a record.

It wasn't the lost time that worried him. It was the fact that he'd needed it, needed the full day and a half's rest that was concerning. He was used to pushing his body and he paid close attention to it; right now, it was throwing up red flags. Going for a run always made him feel better, clearing the toxins from his muscles and the nagging thoughts from his head, so he quickly made up the sheets and pulled on some track pants. Lacing his sneakers tightly, he took great care to stretch out his ankle gently and test his weight before deciding that there was no way he could make his normal route without putting undue strain on it. But a short handful of miles should be just fine. Looping his key through a rubber band on his wrist, he locked up and headed down to the street.

It was a beautiful day, it really was, the kind of day that made him miss home, miss living in the country on acres and acres of lush green grass where he could spend an afternoon walking in the orchards or working the horses in the paddock. In all his world travels, all his time on the job in exotic places, he often found that the city grated on him, the skyscrapers looming over his head like dark giants of glass and steel. Stretching one more time, he decided to move towards the park where he could at least see some trees and turned west, starting his loop.

His head felt muzzy this morning. Well, afternoon really, and that was probably part of the problem. It had been a long sleep, and it was still hanging around as his muscles began to loosen up and he lengthened his stride, moving quickly down the sidewalk into greater suburbia. But he wasn't stupid, and he wasn't into self-denial either. He was starting to question this work, starting to question his team, and he knew from experience that questioning himself wasn't too far behind. And questioning himself was another thing that Eliot wasn't into. When he did, he stopped what he was doing, dropped off the grid for a few days while he re-evaluated his reality, and then – typically - moved on.

He didn't want to leave, didn't want to walk away from all of this – not really. It was nice, being the good guy again, even if he was just a good bad guy. When he'd started out, when he'd been young and naïve and green, the sun on his shoulders and a smile on his face. That had faded fast as he found his talent, found what he was good at and honed his skills as a hitter and retrieval specialist. He couldn't lie about his work; he loved it, and he couldn't give it up for anything. But it was hard too.

Turning into the park and heading down one of the beaten foot-paths, Eliot considered the career he'd built for himself. Sure, it had its perks. He got to travel, to see beautiful places and beautiful things, but it made it hard to establish a home. How were you supposed to keep an apartment when you couldn't put your real name on the lease and you were only there one week out of the month to pay the bills and keep the taps from freezing up? Creating a family, keeping friends, that was even harder. Try telling someone you cared about that you were going deep into the Middle East to liberate a country single-handedly, or to steal a flash-drive that could bring an entire nation to its knees because you're the only one dangerous enough to make it in and out alive.

It didn't go well.

He'd already lost someone because of his work. He'd loved Aimee, he couldn't deny that, but giving her a promise ring had been a mistake. He'd done it because at the time he truly wanted to, desperately wanted to have her to come home to, but it hadn't been fair to her. Not with the life he led, a life she couldn't share. It wasn't fair to leave her waiting, to ask her to count the days that he was gone and leave her hoping that each night would be the one that he came back to her.

It had hurt, when she'd first broken it off with him, of course it had. It still hurt a bit. There would always be a soft place in his heart for his first love, but he didn't blame her for breaking it off. He never had. How could he? She deserved better than what he could have given her, he could admit that. A part of him still wanted to be that man that she deserved, the one that sweat and toiled and worked family land before coming in to his wife and his children every night. That slow, southern lifestyle continued to draw him, even now, but that draw had never been enough.

Oh, it was a life that he still went back to every once in a while, when he needed a vacation, when he needed to get away from it all, but it couldn't last. It never lasted. He would find himself getting anxious, getting tense, and he knew that sooner or later, he was going to have to go back to what he did best. And that was just the problem. The other part of him was a hitter through and through, a retrieval expert of the highest grade, and there was no way he could lock that part of himself away. But it didn't change the fact that he still _wanted_.

He wanted a family. Wanted a home. Wanted _friends_.

Eliot's ankle twinged and he slowed until he came to a stop near a bench at the edge of the park trail. He'd gotten lost in his thoughts and run farther than he'd meant to, and his injured muscles were starting to feel it. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He should have caught that, should have noted where he was and how long he'd been running to prevent further harm being done to his body, but he hadn't. He'd gotten lost, consumed in his mental turmoil, and what had come of it? Nothing. He still wanted a family, still wanted that connection, that intimacy with other people, but didn't know how to deal with it when he go the shot.

Because he had it now, didn't he? This team, these people that cared about him, that he cared about. They were a sort of family. But they were starting to fall apart, starting to burn so hot and so bright that he feared they would soon collapse in on themselves like the shifting of a bonfire on cool summer nights, wood turned to ash so suddenly that the whole world shifted, sending sparks flying out into the dark. Sophie had been the first warning, the first snap and crackle heralding the breakdown of everything they'd built. And it was getting worse. He could feel it, and he was afraid.

Eliot knew that fear. He acknowledged it, understood it… he just didn't know how to face it. For the first time in a long time he thought that maybe he should walk away, but couldn't bring himself to do so. He'd found something here, something perfect and flawed and wonderful that was still completely capable of wrecking him. He needed to figure this out, he knew, to take a little time away and figure out what he really wanted and whether or not what he wanted was actually good for him, but for now, for these two days, he really just wanted to relax. He wanted to cook, and work on his garden, and maybe even drop in on Hardison to catch a game on his flat screen. He needed calm, needed peace from all these thoughts. He needed…

A distraction.

And wouldn't you know, there was one now.

Just ahead of him, a chestnut colored ponytail swung back and forth as a girl in bright green jogging shorts moved steadily along the trail, a big black dog trotting calmly at her side. Eliot had the strangest feeling that even without Echo's dark presence he would have recognized Lennie, even from the back, even having just met her the day before. Picking up his pace, he quickly gained on the slowly jogging woman, calling out her name several times without response. The shepherd turned his big head back to him and showed a wide, lolling doggy smile, giving no sign of aggression or defensiveness, allowing Eliot the confidence to reach out and touch his owner's shoulder.

And catch a fist right in the nose.


	6. Chapter 6

_He needed calm, needed peace from all these thoughts. He needed…A distraction._

_And wouldn't you know, there was one now._

_Just ahead of him, a chestnut colored ponytail swung back and forth as a girl in bright green jogging shorts moved steadily along the trail, a big black dog trotting calmly at her side. Picking up his pace, he quickly gained on the slowly jogging woman, calling out her name several times without response. The shepherd turned his big head back to him and showed a wide, lolling doggy smile, giving no sign of aggression or defensiveness, allowing Eliot the confidence to reach out and touch his owner's shoulder._

_And catch a fist right in the nose._

* * *

"Dammit!" Eliot yelped, his hands flying to his nose. He'd halfway dodged the punch, but he hadn't been expecting her to take a swing at him, and he was off balance himself, his attention scattered and unfocused. Neither was any excuse for her to have given _him _a broken nose, but there he was, blood leaking out between his fingers with a pair of dark green eyes glaring at him angrily.

"What the hell?" he growled, taking a precautionary step away from her. "You broke my nose!"

"Fractured it," she corrected, tilting her head to one side as he wiped the blood from his upper lip. "You'll be all right."

"That your version of an apology?" he asked, gingerly investigating the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

"Apology for what?" she questioned, and there was an honest innocence to the enquiry. "Fix it for you though. If you want."

Eliot scowled at her. "No thanks," he grumbled. With a grimace and a quick burst of pain he straightened it out just in case, but noted the absence of the grating that would indicate broken and separated pieces of cartilage. Fractured then – she was right.

"It's Eliot yeah?" she asked, light and loose on her feet even though he gave her his most intimidating glower. "You make a habit of grabbing girls in the park?"

Eliot cast her a sarcastic smirk. Smart ass. "Your name not really Lennie?" he countered.

She raised her eyebrows.

"I called your name," he explained. "Four times."

"Really? Oh." She looked a little confused, a little bit concerned, and it worried him.

"You ok?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"Yes fine," she said quickly, brightening with obvious effort. Reaching down, she ruffled her dog's ears as he pressed in close against her legs. She looked Eliot over as she bent and then straightened again, frowning at the sight of his track pants and muddy sneakers. "You aren't running are you? I told you to get off that ankle."

Her authoritative tone was almost possessive, as though she had decided to take responsibility for him upon herself, and Eliot almost laughed. He was one of the last people in the world who needed a caretaker.

"It's fine," he assured her, picking up his foot and rotating his ankle slowly in exhibition. "See? Was all right when I woke up and I've been taking it slow so..."

_So leave it_.

Lennie's mouth quirked to the side but she didn't comment. There was a terribly awkward silence after that, as neither could seem to think of anything to say to the other, and Eliot began to wonder why he had called out to her at all instead of just letting her go her own way. He wrinkled his nose and the sharp ache that had dulled to a low throb until then sparked a reminder.

"So you were in the military?" he inquired.

She looked up sharply, her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think I was ever in the military?" she asked slowly.

Eliot brushed his thumb over his upper lip. "Nice reflexes," he offered. "And you _were_ wearing dog tags."

Lennie's face visibly shuttered. There was a long pause and he didn't think she was going to respond, but eventually she did. "They were my brother's," she said flatly, looking away up the trail. "Look I don't… really like talking about myself, so…"

Eliot hadn't had any intention of prying further; he knew that when you wore someone else's dog tags, you wore pain with them. But now he felt like he owed her something, some token of apology for prodding at scars. He hadn't meant to, and now he felt guilty for making such an obvious miscalculation, and it was strange, foreign. He tried not to feel deeply for many people. It was too hard, with what he did. It was easier to keep his distance.

"You'd make a good boxer," he blurted out, unaware that he was about to say anything at all.

It was true. Her form had been good, her reaction natural and smooth, and she hadn't been afraid to put power behind it. Didn't change the fact that he felt like an idiot for blabbing it out like that. His cheeks flared and she must have seen him blush because she smiled lightly and laughed a little. It lit her face, stark in its contrast to the dark shadow it had been just moments before, and he thought that that might almost be worth the few seconds' embarrassment.

"I've never boxed before in my life," she replied, turning to face the city and starting slowly back up the trail.

"You should try some lessons," he answered back, more to keep up the light conversation and cover his blunder than anything as he kept pace at her side. He saw her grin.

"You offering?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Eliot immediately moved to do just that but stopped himself right before he opened his mouth, surprised at his initial instinct. Lennie didn't seem to notice, only continued on up the trail with Echo at her side. Eliot moved to keep up, abruptly ready for their encounter to end. He felt off balance with this girl and he didn't like it. He couldn't for the life of him think of anything else to say, but she seemed entirely comfortable in the silence, moving over the uneven path easily with her arms swinging gently at her sides. They walked side by side for a while, strangely companionable despite the silence until they reached the gates of the park and stopped along the sidewalk, preparing to part.

"So…"

Lennie smiled prettily and tucked a curl behind her ear, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to finish the thought. Eliot got the distinct feeling that he amused her in some way and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. And that seemed to be his reading on her didn't it? Completely useless. She threw him off, made him feel uneasy and unsure, and he didn't like it.

"So. What does a hitter do on his day off?" she asked, a clear attempt to salvage the sentence that had trailed away.

"He takes a day off," Eliot replied. "How about you? Any big plans while you're in town?"

"Nope."

"Parker hasn't talked you into running a job yet?"

Lennie broke into a wide smile and laughed, shaking her head. "No, not yet. Gonna try to keep her on a short leash while I'm here. She might not know the meaning of vacation, but I do." She frowned. "Have to work her pretty hard in the meantime," she muttered to herself.

"Right," Eliot responded, reminded of the strange reason that Lennie had appeared in town in the first place. Still… "You know, for Parker's cousin you're strangely… normal."

The girl quirked an eyebrow and looked him up and down before she smirked. "For Parker's friend, so are you."

Clicking her tongue at Echo, she turned around and ran away up the sidewalk.

* * *

Lennie couldn't help a small grin as she ran back into the city towards the warehouse where her cousin stayed. She certainly hadn't expected to come across the hitter on her run, but it had been an… _interesting_ encounter. She hadn't meant to break his nose but she didn't feel too bad about it either. Not really a good idea to go around grabbing onto people. Then again, he _had _said that he'd called out to her. If she'd been more attentive, less lost in her own thoughts, she might have heard him. Then too, she would have noticed that Echo hadn't reacted to his approach. The dog knew him as a friend after their introduction the day before, and hadn't read him as a threat.

But Lennie hadn't noticed.

She'd been stuck, memories looping through her mind like an old film reel, crackly and discolored from time and forgetfulness. Still, she kept coming back to one image; the folded, faded photo that she'd carried in her wallet for years and had memorized down to the last detail. It was an old picture, maybe a good two decades old, but she still couldn't look at it without tracing her finger over the faces that smiled out at the camera; herself, Matt, Nick, and Parker - younger, more innocent, only just beginning to know the hardships that would follow them like shadows for the rest of their lives. She remembered the photo being taken, didn't remember who was behind the camera, but remembered grouping in tight with her brother and her cousins, lanky arms and elbows slung around each other's shoulders as they clung to the only people in the world they'd come to trust.

Remembering hurt - she couldn't deny that - stung, cut, dug deep at old scars and was viciously painful, even after all this time, but she would rather that than the other. Forgetting wasn't an option, wasn't acceptable to her, and the pain was a small price to pay. Lennie believed that love and pain went hand in hand, and when loss didn't hurt, the love hadn't been real. But she knew too that pain was something you had to face.

Was a bit like Eliot really, and his sprained ankle. You could just ignore how much it hurt, go about your business, but you'd end up making things worse. You needed to own up to that injury, take steps to work around it, to care for it, and emotional damage was no different than the physical. You had to experience it, talk about it, live through it. Repression wasn't healthy, it could tear you apart as easily as Echo could, and that kind of damage took even longer to heal.

She should know.

By the time she got back to the apartment she was panting and sweating hard, her muscles pleasantly weary and strained. Parker was still asleep in her bed, rolling and murmuring when Lennie came inside but not waking. Stealing a cereal bowl, she took it to the bathroom and filled it with cold water, placing it on the floor for Echo who set about emptying it again as messily as a dog could, slobbering and splashing all over the cement. Snagging her duffel, she showered quickly before dressing in day old jeans and a white t-shirt. Emerging barefoot from the bathroom, she found her cousin sitting up in the bed and stretching, her hair a tangled mess.

"What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms.

Stepping in close to her side, Lennie grabbed her wrist and pulled it down, turning it to check the face of her watch.

"After two," she replied, sitting down on the side of the bed to pull on a pair of socks and her boots. "We need to talk."

Parker groaned hard and flopped back on her pillows, flinging an arm over her eyes. A minute passed in silence which was abruptly broken by the loud, gurgling growl of the little blonde's stomach.

"Come on," Lennie said, reaching behind her back to slap Parker's calf. "I'll buy you breakfast."


	7. Chapter 7

_By the time she got back to the apartment she was panting and sweating hard, her muscles pleasantly weary and strained. Parker was still asleep in her bed, rolling and murmuring when Lennie came inside but not waking. Snagging her duffel, she showered quickly before dressing in day old jeans and a white t-shirt. Emerging barefoot from the bathroom, she found her cousin sitting up in the bed and stretching, her hair a tangled mess._

_"What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms._

_Stepping in close to her side, Lennie grabbed her wrist and pulled it down, turning it to check the face of her watch. _

_"After two," she replied, sitting down on the side of the bed to pull on a pair of socks and her boots. "We need to talk."_

_Parker groaned hard and flopped back on her pillows, flinging an arm over her eyes. A minute passed in silence which was abruptly broken by the loud, gurgling growl of the little blonde's stomach._

_"Come on," Lennie said, reaching behind her back to slap Parker's calf. "I'll buy you breakfast."_

* * *

Parker guided her through town to a nearby diner that served breakfast all day, greeting the waitress by name (though the waitress called her Sarah in return) and ordering a bowl of cereal before she'd even slid all the way into the red vinyl booth. Lennie just rolled her eyes, ordering coffee and orange juice before picking up her menu. She perused it in silence, watching her cousin over the top of the sticky, plastic-covered pages and debating on just how she was going to approach the coming conversation. She didn't think for a moment that Parker would refrain from causing a scene just because they were in public; at the very least if she got too uncomfortable she would just pull one of her Houdini's and disappear while Lennie was looking down at the sugar bowl.

The waitress reappeared with a wide flat tray, placing cream, sugar, sweet black caffeine, and OJ in front of Lennie, then making room for Parker's cereal and a tiny pitcher of milk. To Lennie's relief she also set down a side of toast and fresh-cut fruit; Parker was looking more thin and drawn than she had a few years ago if Lennie's memory served her well. Placing her own order, she waited for the server to leave and Parker to stuff a spoon in her mouth before she spoke.

"So. Big plans for this afternoon?"

Parker shook her head no.

"Really? Just seems like you don't get free time that often…"

She looked up sharply, her spoon dripping halfway between her bowl and her mouth. "Why do you think that?"

Lennie shrugged. "I ran into Eliot this morning on my run. He was pretty emphatic that he was going to actually relax since he has a vacation day."

Parker frowned, shoveling in two more bites of Rocket-O's. "What did he say?"

"Just what I said. That he had a day off and he was going to take it. Speaking of Eliot," Lennie said, her curiosity getting the best of her, "I thought you worked alone."

"I did," Parker replied cautiously, her eyes suddenly bright with wary questions. "I've been working with these guys for months. You've never asked about them before."

"Didn't seem the thing to do in a letter," Lennie answered after a pause, watching her spoon makes small waves through her coffee. Then she looked back up and caught Parker's gaze, all the old hurt and anger burning there despite her best efforts to tamp it down. "I _am_ happy for you Parker. Glad you found some people you can share your life with."

"Lennie…"

Luckily the waitress reappeared before Parker could finish her sentence, presenting Lennie with a towering stack of banana walnut pancakes. For a few minutes she focused solely on spreading butter and pouring maple syrup, luxuriating in a few hot bites of something other than the greasy cheeseburgers she'd grown so sick of on her hideously long drive from the mitten. Parker sat motionless the whole time, her cereal temporarily forgotten as it grew soggy and discolored the milk. When she thought it halfway safe again, she twirled her knife and fork between her fingers like a snare drummer and cleared her throat, choosing a new tack that would hopefully redirect the conversation.

"So. You and the computer geek huh?"

Parker made a choking sound and dropped her spoon with a loud clatter. "What?!" she yipped. "No! That was… that was just the job! We're not…"

"Oh yeah, definitely something there," Lennie chuckled, happy that the mood had lightened again. "Come on Parker, you're like, one of the gods of being aware of your surroundings. Watch the guy next time he's around, you'll see. He looks at you like Echo looks at steak; great big puppy eyes, but you can see him plotting too. Not to mention, he was pretty much ready to challenge me to a duel yesterday when you started freaking out."

"Yeah well, you would have deserved it," Parker pouted, pushing her empty bowl away and slouching back in her seat, picking at a crust of toast. "What kind of a person just appears in a locked apartment with no notice whatsoever?"

Lennie cocked an eyebrow. "Must be a family thing," she responded dryly.

Parker blushed and looked down. A minute later she spoke again, small and quiet and shy. "It's been years since I've seen you Lennie. What are you doing here?"

"Jesus Parker!" Lennie hissed, abruptly overwhelmed with hurt as she shoved her half-finished plate away and pulled her wallet from her jeans. "You wrote to me first, remember?" Climbing out of the booth, she threw a pair of crumpled tens down on the table, careful not to flash Parker the picture that sat creased and faded in the same leather sleeve. Turning away, she took two steps towards the door before she stopped. "Is it really that bad seeing me again?"

She got no response.

Lennie swallowed hard. "We're leaving tomorrow night," she said, letting her voice go flat and cold and emotionless so that it wouldn't crack. "Pack your shit or go without."

Swallowing down the tears that tightened her throat, she pushed out of the diner and back onto the crowded sidewalk under the mid-afternoon sun. For a minute she turned her face up to the sky, desperate for some weak city rays to burn away the sudden chill that raised goose bumps on her forearms. Deciding that she didn't really care whether Parker followed her or not – even if she did disappear between now and when they needed to leave – she began making her way back to the warehouse. She knew where the team's headquarters was, and she had no doubt that that was where she would find her cousin if she had to.

* * *

Eliot didn't accomplished much after his encounter with Lennie; upon returning to his apartment he just hadn't seemed to be able to shut his brain down long enough to focus on anything. He'd moved idly from place to place, activity to activity, unable to settle his body or his mind as he turned his concerns over and over again without advancement or improvement. Still worried about the state of the team and his place amongst them, the unstable turn they were starting to take, he found himself continuously returning to the image of a pair of dark green eyes, looking at him with a clear and even understanding, as though they could read him as easily as a book. It didn't seem fair, considering that he couldn't seem to get a reading on them at all.

By that evening he felt as though he'd wasted an entire day, and was more stressed than when he'd started out. An intense two hour workout had helped, and following it up with an hour of yoga and meditation had helped some more, but he still carried a distinct feeling of disconcertion with him.

The next day was slightly better. After his normal ninety minutes of sleep, he was up by eight thirty, and he completed another short, easy jog without any complaints from his ankle. Deeming it fully healed, he spent another hour on a new kick-boxing routine, a style he'd only recently taken an interest in. A quick shower later and he had settled into his garden, repotting a few cherry tomato plants that had outgrown their troughs. There, with the sun warm on his back and his hands deep in the loamy soil, he finally found some measure of quiet.

He loved his garden. It was a peaceful place for him, no matter where it was at the time, filled with all the old memories of his youth before he'd joined up with the military. He hoped one day that he might find a little place with some property, some real land that he could work and fill with the tiny tender buds of vegetables and herbs that would thrive so much better there than in the jerry-rigged piping and weak, polluted city air. But such a place required upkeep; it wasn't something you could just visit on the weekends and neglect the other five days a week. So for now he contented himself with the small operation he'd managed on the roof.

Finishing up the tomatoes, he picked a handful and put them into a bowl before moving on to his most recent project; a large chunk of rotting tree bark on which he was cultivating a batch of mushrooms. They were exceeding his every expectation, and he was careful to adjust the amount of moisture and sunlight they were getting to keep them from going black and soggy. Choosing the five largest, he added them to the bowl with the tomatoes, forming a recipe in his head as he moved along the rows of plants. Two handfuls of spinach topped off the lot, and he ran one more check over the irrigation system before heading back inside.

Where he found quiet calm in his garden, a sort of Zen relaxation, his kitchen drew more excitement from him. Cooking was something he'd had to work at, but he had grown to develop a real passion for it, a passion that only ever burned brighter. It allowed him to experiment and create, to take risks that didn't result in serious injury or death, to have fun in his missteps. His greatest failure to date had been a cheddar and rosemary soufflé that had fallen, turning bitter and gummy when his over-confidence had him improvising on the delicately balanced recipe. Now he began boiling penne while he washed and sautéed his vegetables, setting shrimp out to thaw while he built a quick chipotle-cream sauce.

He wasn't big on breakfast, so by now he'd built up a good appetite and his mouth started to water as the spicy aroma began to waft up out of the pot in a hot cloud of steam. This was the pleasant part, the immersive part, where he could lose himself in tastes and smells, color and texture popping under his hands and on his tongue. He tuned his counter-top radio in to a country station, chopping garlic and slicing lemon in time with an old Garth Brooks number. Little music never hurt anybody.

Neither did wine.

Pouring himself a glass of white, he took a sip before getting his shrimp onto the stove, adjusting the gas when they hissed and spit upon hitting the pan. For a few minutes everything was gravy, just as he liked, couldn't get better, so when his phone rang he thought twice before flipping it open and bringing it to his ear.

"Spencer."

"Spencer? What the hell's a Spencer?"

"What do you want Hardison?" Eliot growled, transferring the phone to his shoulder as he scooped his pasta from the boiling water directly into the sauce, using one hand to toss the penne while he added his mushrooms, tomatoes, and spinach with the other.

"Vacation's over," the hacker said into the phone, and Eliot could practically hear him holding back a sigh and a grimace. He wasn't the only one being run ragged by their new work schedule. "Nate's calling a meet-n-greet."

"When?" Eliot asked, plating up his pasta and topping it with succulent pink shrimp.

"Now."

"Shit."

"Yeah," Hardison agreed grimly. "See you there."

Snapping his phone shut, Eliot scooped up a huge bite of pasta before throwing down his fork with a clatter. Damn if it wasn't delicious. Draining the rest of his wine in one go, he grabbed his coat and his keys and headed out the door, leaving the plate cooling on the counter.


	8. Chapter 8

_"What do you want Hardison?" Eliot growled, transferring the phone to his shoulder_

_"Vacation's over," the hacker said into the phone, and Eliot could practically hear him holding back a sigh and a grimace. He wasn't the only one being run ragged by their new work schedule. "Nate's calling a meet-n-greet."_

_"When?" Eliot asked, plating up his pasta and topping it with succulent pink shrimp._

_"Now."_

_"Shit."_

_"Yeah," Hardison agreed grimly. "See you there."_

_Snapping his phone shut, Eliot scooped up a huge bite of pasta before throwing down his fork with a clatter. Damn if it wasn't delicious. Draining the rest of his wine in one go, he grabbed his coat and his keys and headed out the door, leaving the plate cooling on the counter._

* * *

Lennie hadn't seen Parker since she'd left the diner the day before, and as late afternoon began to roll around it became apparent that she was going to have to hunt her cousin down if she wanted to leave before dark. Packing up her clothes, she took one last look at the sparse little warehouse, flooded with a strange sense of melancholy, oddly reluctant to leave. She couldn't drum up any desire whatever to go back home, either to Michigan where she had grown up or to North Carolina, the only other place she'd really known. At the same time she found herself feeling sorry for Parker, her home a spare and colorless parallel of her emotional infrastructure. Oh she knew that in many ways Parker could take care of herself – she had proved that since childhood – but it was evident that in other ways she couldn't.

Not that it was her place to take care of Parker.

She'd never been big on taking care of people.

So it was funny, where she'd ended up, wasn't it? As a doctor. Well, not exactly a doctor, but with most of the skills a doctor had. With the _ability_ to take care of people, in a time when they needed care the most.

So much talent wasted on someone like her.

Someone who was happier doing a dozen different odd jobs a year, trying out something new every month or so. Menial jobs, jobs that didn't require a lot of training or skill. Living paycheck to paycheck by writing for newspaper columns in the winter, flipping burgers in a greasy spoon at night, mucking out stables and baling hay in the summer heat. She learned fast, picked up on things and managed a personable attitude wherever she went, so it wasn't unusual for her to climb swiftly up whatever rickety hierarchical ladder existed in the places she wound up. Still, she'd never really been able to find a place that she fit, and so she'd never stayed long.

No. Matt had been the one, the one who knew what he wanted, and somehow, miraculously, managed to make it happen. He had wanted to learn medicine more than anything, to be able to help people when they needed him and despite all the odds, he had pulled a longshot out of thin air their senior year. College had never been an option, not for either of them, but he'd still done it, still managed to find a program that would allow him to study to become a medic, an emergency responder in the United Stated Army, and would pay for the whole thing in exchange for a minimum of four years active service. Medicine had been his dream, his passion, and he had been good. Oh, had he been good. Always the top of his class, and he had loved it from the very first moment.

She wished she could find that same passion in herself.

'Perhaps it's for the best,' she mused as she pulled her pickup into the lot in front of the apartment where she'd first caught up with Parker. It would hurt more if she'd come to love it.

She didn't have a license. Didn't have a degree. Yes, she had studied right alongside her brother all those nights in their shitty little apartment on the edge of campus, reading beneath bare light bulbs that flickered overhead, quizzing each other back and forth, practicing hypodermics on oranges and stitches on chickens that they would later have to pick thread from before cooking them up for supper. And yes, she had even been able to sneak into a lot of his larger classes to attend lectures, but _she_ hadn't gotten a scholarship. She wasn't enrolled, didn't exist as far as the university was concerned, and to the wider world, she had no more right to practice medicine than the average guy on the street.

She _was_ better. That much had to be fact. How could it not be, when she'd copied and copied her brother's notes, taken a hundred practice tests at his side to spur him on, when she knew enough, had enough practice that yes, she _could_ do it. Could be an emergency responder, just like he'd been, only… not in any clinic or hospital.

'Maybe a private practice,' she mused as she headed inside. 'Somewhere they don't really check your references.'

And that was to say that she wanted to get back into that sort of thing. She wasn't sure she did. It brought up a host of memories, years full of them, and when she thought about it it was like she could feel Matt standing right behind her and if she only looked over her shoulder he would be there.

She'd looked those first few months. Turned when she thought she heard his voice, kept watch for letters postmarked from the Middle East that wouldn't come anymore. But she'd finally learned. Learned to stop looking, because he wouldn't be there.

Echo bumped in close to her side as she climbed the stairs to the planner's apartment, trying to shake off the ghost that was following her like the scent of wood smoke. If she didn't catch hold of her cousin and get her back to Michigan in time for her father's funeral, she'd have a different one to worry about. She had no doubts that the stubborn old cuss would haunt her till her own dying day if she didn't fulfill his last wish.

To work then.

A short walk down the hall had her standing before the apartment, and she had to smile at the new set of locks gleaming at her from the edge of the door. Taking a strategic step to the left, she knocked firmly three times, all the while smiling up into the well-concealed camera above her head that she'd only been able to spot because she was looking for it. She heard a bit of scuffling inside before silence fell, and she tilted her head and waved cockily at the lens, sure that the computer geek at least was spying on her. Seconds later the door opened, revealing a nervously shifting grifter.

"Hello again darling," she said in her softly accented tone, a voice Lennie actually found quiet pleasant despite its obvious unsteady beat. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm here to pick up Parker," Lennie replied, leaving no illusion that she would be departing without the little blonde thief.

"Oh, I um…" the woman staggered, obviously terribly uncomfortable, "I'm afraid, uh…"

"Can I come in?" Lennie asked abruptly, and the woman was so thrown by the question that she automatically moved aside.

"Of course," she replied, waving her through, "But, oh! I, I'm afraid that, _Parker_, is not here. She's gone… home. Yes, gone home."

Lennie arched an eyebrow and scanned the open floor of the apartment. The techie was indeed seated in front of his laptop which showed a clear view of the empty hallway outside the door, and the planner, the master of it all, was leaning rather stiffly against the breakfast bar on one elbow, his head down as he stared fixedly at the glass of orange juice in his hand. The hitter, Eliot, was slouched low on the end of the couch, his arms crossed, obviously displeased, but he was watching her with a kind of easy curiosity, and she got the distinct feeling that he at least was treating this as a kind of test, one that he was eager to see her pass.

"You see?" the woman at her side asked, opening her arms to indicate the room that Lennie had quite blatantly just searched. "Parker is uh, not here, Parker is not here."

"Right," she responded flatly. Frowning at them all, a little hurt by the fact that they would lie to her so readily, she dropped into a crouch and spun on her heel to face the big black Shepherd at her side. "Remember Parker?" she asked the dog in a high pitched voice, pumping her tone full of forced enthusiasm. "Parker? You like Parker, right boy? Huh? Wanna find Parker?"

The animal began to dance, stamping its front feet and wagging its body furiously, tongue lolling as it waited to be released. Slinging one arm out in a broad, winging gesture, she gave the dog his command.

"Echo seek!"

* * *

Eliot was expecting Parker's cousin to show. Quite frankly, he was waiting for her.

He was pretty pissed that he had been dragged in on his one actual vacation day, pissed that he had had to leave the relaxation of his kitchen and the hot bowl of pasta on his counter top. He'd come through the door without a word about Hardison's new security setup, without a word to anyone, sinking low into the corner of the couch with no intention of leaving it until he was allowed to leave the apartment. He must have had a good glower on his face because Nate had paled a bit and gone off to the other side of the room, Sophie opening and closing her mouth a few times before deciding that it was safer not to speak. Hardison had just busied himself with his new toy, checking the angles he could get on the hallway images. Parker had shown shortly after, rumpled and rather disheveled, as though she'd slept in her clothes, and he'd been rather surprised to see her. Lennie didn't seem the type to give up without a fight; the tender bridge of his nose could attest to that, and so from the moment Parker waltzed in through the door, he'd been waiting.

Of course it was down to business, and the more Nate talked the more annoyed Eliot got. The planner had gotten nervous about a new rung of security put in place by their next mark, and had called them together to brief them on the new reconnaissance mission. All of it was pointless of course; the mission revolved heavily around Parker and her rappelling skills, her ability to get in and out of a room unnoticed, and she was leaving, wouldn't be back for three days.

But apparently Eliot was the only one who remembered that.

Grumbling to himself, he folded his arms and entrenched himself a little more deeply in his seat. This was a wasted meeting; he could be at home doing something more productive, like eating or listening to some old records. Breathing. Really anything would be more productive than this. And so finally he said so.

"Problem," he said, the word that had become a cornerstone of the team's vocabulary at these conferences. "Not sure if you've all forgotten but Parker's not gonna be here." Turning to the resident thief, he cocked an eyebrow. "You've got your uncle's funeral remember?"

"I'm not going," Parker said adamantly, and none of them could miss the distinctly whiny tone of her voice. Either she hadn't slept all that well last night or her cousin really brought out the worst in her. For a moment Eliot wondered if she would stamp her foot. "And Lennie can't make me."

The word's had barely left her mouth when a shrill alarm went off, a bit like a fire alarm. Hardison quickly spun on his stool, tapping away a half a dozen keys to silence the blaring and bring up an image onto the TV screens.

Eliot had to hand it to her, the girl had damn near immaculate timing.

Lennie's face was splashed across the screens, staring up directly into Hardison's oh-so-perfectly-hidden camera, those dark green eyes deep and steady. Eliot found himself oddly entranced by them, felt like he was looking right at her instead of at a projection of her with a wall between them, and he jumped when three hard, solid knocks sounded on the door. All eyes immediately turned to Parker, who had gone deathly still, as though she could escape being seen as long as she didn't move. She seemed to recognize the futility of this and sprang into quiet action, shushing them with a gesture and a warning glare before disappearing down the back hallway. The rest had panicked a bit while Eliot just sat back to watch them scramble in place. It was Sophie who abruptly took it upon herself to answer the door.

Bad idea.

He'd flinched at the terrible acting, but credit where credit was due, he'd expected Sophie to hold out just a _bit _longer. Lennie was inside the apartment in less than thirty seconds, and it was obvious that she wasn't buying the lie. Of course, it didn't help that suddenly no one in the room seemed capable of looking her in the eye but him. She scanned the room easily, and the corner of his mouth just lifted when her gaze caught his. This would be interesting, to see what she did, how she would stand up to this.

Sophie made another poorly delivered token remark but Lennie still didn't fold, though he thought he might've seen something like hurt flash across her face. She surprised him then, turning away from them all and dropping to her heels. He hadn't been sure what she'd do, but he hadn't expected such a cool, confident reaction as what came next. In an enthusiastic voice she began to rile the big dog that clung to her like a wraith, repeating her cousin's name over and over again as the animal began to pant and shift excitedly, crackling energy wired into a hard ball of muscle and teeth until she gave it a firm, sweeping command.

Echo took off like a bullet from a gun, charging into the room and making great sweeps back and forth as he scented the air, his ears up and his eyes sharp. Hardison lifting his feet comically onto the rungs of his stool as the dog came close then swerved around him, intent on its task. Eliot himself was more interested in the girl, who had risen smoothly to her feet and moved over the floor to the couch, sitting down on the edge of the cushion directly across from him and swinging one knee over the other. She was dressed in the same dark denim and combat boots as she had been before, a checked, black and gray button down of soft flannel open over a white t-shirt. The sleeves were rolled to her elbows and his eyes skimmed over the black string bracelet tied loose on her wrist, lingered on her brother's dog tags woven tightly through her laces, before he managed to bring them back to hers.

"How was your day off?" she asked lightly, and he was impressed by her casualty.

"Short," he replied, and he behind him he could feel Nate stiffen, but Lennie just smiled and chuckled in a sad sort of way.

"Sorry," she offered.

He believed her.

A noise caught his attention and he leaned back over the couch, looking down the hallway to his left. Echo was sniffing intently along the bottom of the linen cupboard door, his breath huffing loudly in the crack. The dog emitted a high-pitched whine and began to dig at the floorboards, then dropped to its belly, tail wagging furiously. He looked back at Eliot with his tongue lolling, far too pleased with himself, and he could just make out the muffled voice coming from the closet.

"Dammit Echo!"

Echo barked twice, bounding to his feet when Parker emerged from the closet, unfolding herself and stomping into the living room as he circled and leaped around her, shepherding her back. Lennie too jumped to her feet, throwing her arms out in feigned excitement.

"Good boy!" she cried, ruffling the dog's ears and neck. "Clever, handsome boy!" Lifting him up onto his hind legs, she buffeted him and jostled him around the shoulders, throwing him from side to side and rough-housing good naturedly, praising the animal for a job well done.

And Eliot had to agree. Job very well done. She'd stayed calm and collected, and had really made asses of them all, hadn't she? Bit silly to tell a lie when it was so easily disproved.

Dropping her dog back onto all fours, she stood and tugged at the hem of her shirt before turning to face her cousin, who was standing just beyond Eliot's shoulder behind the couch. He thought that he was probably the only one who noticed the way Lennie's stance widened and her shoulders dropped, the way she subtly shook out her arms. Yes, she'd make a good boxer.

"Ready to go?" she asked lightly. "Traffic's clean; we should make good time."

Parker folded her arms over her chest and her eyes darkened. "I told you I'm not going Lennie."

"And I told you." Lennie's voice went low and cold and deadly, chilling everyone in the room, and Eliot had to fight the urge to stand. Them was fightin' words. "_We_ are _leaving_. Get your jacket."

"No."

"Last chance," Lennie warned. "Get. Your. Jacket."

Eliot saw Parker set her jaw and he suddenly got the very strong impression that he should not be sitting between the two, but to his astonishment, and to the visible relief of the rest of the room, Lennie suddenly softened, easing back on her heels and grinning pleasantly round at them all as she stuck her hands in her pockets.

"Fine," she said to Parker sweetly. "If you'll all excuse me for just a minute, I left a suitcase in my truck. Only take me a minute to fetch it."

Eliot didn't understand the sudden change in topic or demeanor but apparently Parker did. It was as if all her blood went rushing out of her face and into her feet, leaving her as white as a ghost with her eyes practically popping out of her head.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed.

Lennie just smirked. "Try me," she challenged back.

There was a beat of dead silence, dead stillness, and then Parker was gone, in the blink of an eye, a snap of the fingers, snatching her jacket off the hat stand and vanishing out the door. For her part Lennie laughed, tucked a curl behind her ear and tossed him a smile.

"Was nice seeing you again," she said, amusement still lingering in her voice. Rounding the couch she headed towards the door, but Hardison jumped up from his stool and blocked her path.

"What, we're just gonna let her walk out of here?" he demanded.

"Parker can make her own decisions," Eliot responded, keeping his voice flat and calm as Lennie stood hard in place, her silence deafening, her spine ramrod straight. "She walked out of here on her own feet."

"Yeah, right," Hardison snapped. "After getting threatened. I don't know what your deal is," he sneered, turning on Lennie, "But I'm not gonna let you drag Parker into…"

He was cut off by a low, menacing growl, stumbling backwards when Echo rushed forward with front legs stiff and teeth bared, stepping between his master and the hacker, who had stuck out his chest and advanced on her as he spoke, gesticulating widely. Lennie put out a hand and hushed the dog, easing him from his protective stance with a murmur and a gentle stroke along his spine.

"So, let me get this straight," she began unevenly, "You think… that this is about _me_? You think that this is _my deal_?"

The group looked on in silence, their stares and steady silence confirming that suspicion. Lennie scoffed and shook her head hard, abruptly looking away out the window. Eliot watched as her hands fisted and relaxed at her sides, and saw her swallow hard before she spoke again, her voice low, her words sharp and staccato as she executed a vicious control over what she said.

"This was never about me," she declared slowly, like she were chastising children. "It's not even about my father." Eliot watched as Lennie crossed her arms, holding herself as though she were afraid she might fall apart. Turning away from the window, she confronted each of them in turn, her eyes bright and glassy. "You know about Nick?" she asked. "Matt?"

The members of the team cast glances at each other but none knew the names she referred to and they shook their heads.

Lennie frowned, sighed. "It's not my story to tell," she said. "But… Parker has a problem with death. With facing loss. I can't imagine you know her that well, I sure don't. Probably don't see it, but it messes her up. Bad. She needs to be at this funeral, whether she wants to be or not."

There was a hard beat of silence before someone finally spoke.

"You don't think that should be her decision?" Hardison asked in a steel-edged tone.

Lennie looked up at him sharply and the sadness that Eliot had seen around the edges of her mouth disappeared, her eyes flashing, not with tears, but determination. Motioning Echo into a heel, she strode to the door and wrenched it open before whipping a glare back over her shoulder, her chestnut curls flying.

"No."


	9. Chapter 9

_"This isn't about me," she declared slowly, like she were chastising children. "It was never about me. It's not even about him."_

_"You know about Nick?" she asked. "Matt?"_

_The members of the team cast glances at each other but none knew the names she referred to and they shook their heads. Lennie frowned, sighed. "It's not my story to tell," she said. "But Parker has a problem with death. With facing loss. I can't imagine you know her that well, probably don't see it, but it messes her up. Bad. She needs to be at this funeral, whether she wants to be or not."_

_There was a hard beat of silence before someone finally spoke._

_"You don't think that should be her decision?" Hardison asked in a steel-edged tone._

_Lennie looked up at him sharply and the sadness that Eliot had seen around the edges of her mouth disappeared, her eyes flashing, not with tears, but determination. Motioning Echo into a heel, she strode to the door and wrenched it open before whipping a glare back over her shoulder, her chestnut curls flying._

_"No."_

* * *

The flowers were nice. She'd picked out the two small bouquets herself, from a nearby florist not five minutes before she needed to be at the parlor to begin receive condolences. Her father had left very few instructions for his burial, but he had abhorred the gesture of excessive numbers of plants being sent by mourners and had requested the practice not be upheld at his own service.

Requested.

Her father had never requested anything in his life. He had demanded. And while she had learned long ago not to disobey the laws he laid down, she was glad she'd purchased the blooms. They were a soft shade of peach edged in muted pink, and they looked nice on either side of the blonde wood-grained coffin. She suspected it would have looked rather lonely without them.

Still, she found she took no pleasure in finally disobeying one of her father's orders.

She and Parker had spent the first half hour at the front doors, greeting the small, sporadic groups of people trickling into the service. It might have taken longer, but Leonard Task had few friends, and even fewer family. He wasn't a man likely to be mourned nor deeply missed, and although she harbored some significant guilt for it, Lennie was glad.

It was the first time she'd had to plan a funeral.

When Matt had died overseas, there'd been nothing for her to do but drive out to the airport and collect his ashes. It had seemed so little at the time, so little to take into her hands… an urn, a folded flag. Doing it alone made it all the more difficult. Matt had had no fiancée, his friends all military men and women themselves. And their father? Well, she'd heard that their father had drunk himself into a stupor when he'd received the news, and despite half a dozen pleading phone calls, he had refused to come to his estranged children's sides. Not even death could stir him.

After that she had tried desperately to find Parker, the only other person in the world that mattered anymore, the one that Matt had cared so much about and had looked after for so many years. And she did find her, eventually, only Parker wasn't the same as she had been. Lennie should have expected it; everyone grew up after all, but she'd never imagined that Parker could have become so hard. She had shut down when Lennie told her about Matt's death, refusing to speak, unable to lend any kind of strength or support to her cousin who was flagging so very badly, and Lennie had been so lost in her own pain that she hadn't been able to hold Parker up. She'd been drowning herself, and knew the extra weight would have dragged her under. There was nothing she could do but continue to struggle to keep her own head above water.

So it was nice to have her here today. To have someone to stand next to.

Clothed in matching black dresses that had been purchased the day before, with their hair back in severe twists at the napes of their necks, they looked more like sisters than cousins. Distant, alienated relations declared it shameful, the way the girls stood with chins up and eyes dry as guests filed past the open casket, whispering in the corners of the room, but neither of them cared. Lennie felt empty, and just a bit relieved that her father was finally gone, and Parker?

Well, who knew what Parker was thinking.

She'd barely spoken two words since leaving her team's HQ. Leverage, she said it was called. Lennie had tried time and again to draw her into the reality of what was happening but the stoic blonde refused, stone-faced and silent. The only indication that she was distressed came when she was asleep, when she whimpered and muttered, breathed the names of her lost into the empty air. Lennie supposed she was just lucky that Parker was accepting hugs and handshakes with an acceptable measure of grace, though the interactions were strained and obviously discomforting to the young woman. But eventually they were finally, finally over, and the two girls made their own way to the front, taking a moment to stand over the open coffin and stare down at the late Leonard Task.

Lennie supposed that most people had something to say in this moment. Some errant thought, one last thing they wished they could tell the one lying in front of them. After the death of her brother, she had always imagined that if she ever saw her father again she would scream, rant and rail and snarl with bitter anger, fury and sorrow so deep that no words could really express it. Now, she looked down at his wrinkled, waxy countenance, stern even in cold, unending sleep, and she felt nothing. There were no thoughts, no words… just nothing.

Turning away from the body, found her seat in the front row and perched lightly, calmer somehow when Parker took her place at her side. She was worried about her cousin, very worried, and the way she sat, stiff and cold in her chair, was not at all reassuring. The sermon began and Lennie twisted her fingers together in her lap, missing much of what the minister said as she kept careful watch on the woman at her side. She knew that he was thanking those who had come to mourn, and speaking generally about her father's life - such had been her instruction, as any praise for the man would have been lies and any who had known Leonard Task would know it as such.

Suddenly a hand was sweeping in her direction, and the minister was naming her to those gathered.

"Mr. Task is survived by his first born, his daughter Lenora," he said, smiling down at her in a gentle and reassuring manner. "As well as his niece… erm…"

Lennie almost laughed aloud, slapping a hand loudly over her mouth as the man at the podium scrambled to find Parker's name in his notes. In the harried disorganization of the last two days, she'd forgotten to write it down for him. Of course, she would be surprised if anyone even _remembered_ Parker's name anymore.

"Yes, his niece," the minister finished, flustered and red faced. "He is preceded by his only son Matthew, who gave his life in service to this country just four years ago."

Lennie glanced over at Parker again and could see that she was abruptly fighting desperately to hold back tears. Her jaw clenched as she refused to let them fall, and Lennie reached out to cover her chilled, white-knuckled hands with one of her own.

"The family has asked," the minister continued, "That any donations be made out to the Safe Harbor Foundation, a local organization which provides help to abused and neglected children entering the foster care system."

A sob ripped through the small room and several people jumped as Parker finally broke.

* * *

It took Lennie a good twenty minutes to get her calmed down in the little side room of the funeral parlor. They'd missed the rest of the service but she hadn't cared, hadn't been upset by it. It was more important that she be with Parker, sitting quietly at her side while she wept. She didn't try to shush her, didn't murmur or hold her close - that wasn't who Parker was, and it wasn't who she was either. Silent support was enough for both of them, and that was what she offered.

Eventually they'd pulled themselves together, dried eyes and fixed smudged makeup, and made their way to the little cemetery where Leonard Task was to be interred. It was grey and damp and chilly and she was reminded terribly of the day she'd finally gone and spread her twin's ashes. It had taken her two weeks to work up the courage to drive out to the North Carolina coast, only an hour away from the university and the crummy little flat where they had stayed for all those years. Parker'd disappeared by then, leaving no forwarding number or address, and so once again she'd been on her own.

Lennie exhaled quietly, an easy sense of peace falling over her. She wasn't alone today.

As she stood with her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket, watching her father's coffin being lowered into the ground, she couldn't help but think how much easier this was - to bury her father with her cousin at her side – than to lay her brother to rest alone. There had been a shadow hanging over her that day when she had clambered down the side of the slippery rock face, freezing in the chill spray of the wind and the ocean. Matt had loved that place, loved to go down on weekends and listen to the waves crash against the cliffs, or to drive just a bit further along and spend the night on the beach in front of a bonfire, and there could have been nowhere better to spread his ashes. It had been gray that day too, cloudy and miserable as a storm had rolled slowly up the coast, but at the time it had felt right.

Today it just was.

Parker's elbow bumped her arm gently, jerking her out of her reminiscence. Lennie blinked a few times, surprised that the coffin had fully descended while she zoned out. The plot was headed by a simple, slate gray stone – all that was left now of her dad. Well, except her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that idea just yet.

"Lennie?"

Parker's voice was thick from her crying jag, but the open-ended question was enough to get her moving again. Offering her a forced smile, one she wasn't even sure the meaning of, she led her back up the hill and out of the cemetery to the little lot, climbing into her truck and cranking the heat against the damp and the sudden chill that hit her beneath her heavy jacket. The ride back to her father's house had been quiet, old country music playing so softly it almost wasn't there, just enough to fill the silence so that neither felt the need to fill it with words that wouldn't mean much. When she pulled into the muddy little drive and cut the engine, the loss of that gentle melody hung heavy in the air, a depressive sort of thing that fell on both girls' shoulders like weights.

It was a shabby little place, bleak and unkempt, the roof sagging and the screens popping out of the window frames, and broken glass all along the edges of the walk and the rickety front porch where alcohol bottles had shattered. There was trash and debris and dirt everywhere, and Lennie found herself with a profound sense of relief that this wasn't the place she'd grown up. Wasn't home. Because coming back here, to this, with no one left to her… it would feel far too much like an ending.

Lennie rubbed at the skin on the inside of her left wrist, underneath the black string bracelet that hadn't come off in years, not even today. If Parker noticed the unconscious behavior she didn't comment, only stood next to her in the cold as the wind whipped around them and induced a weary creak and pop from the little house before them.

"Is there anything you want?" she asked quietly, and Lennie shook her head. She had what she needed to remember her brother, had broken in to her father's house and taken it long ago. She even had one or two pictures of the man himself, old pictures from the not-so-bad times. So no, there was nothing she wanted. In fact, now that she was here, actually standing on the edge of all that her father had been reduced to in recent months, she didn't think she could bring herself to cross that threshold and step inside. Wrapping her coat more firmly around her, she turned away and got back into the truck. A moment later Parker had joined her, and as they pulled away rain began to fall.

No one was going to pack it up that little house. Eventually, the city would repossess it and clear it out when the bills started coming back unpaid, and then the commission would come round and it would likely be condemned. It occurred to her that if she came back in a year, or even six months, the place would probably have been leveled.

But she didn't look back.


End file.
